


Finals

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M, academy au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 07:31:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6648133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poe is not handling Finals well. Ben is there to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Midgardian_Nerd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midgardian_Nerd/gifts), [poetdameron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetdameron/gifts), [Themes_of_November](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Themes_of_November/gifts).



Poe has spent the last three weeks living on caf. Or almost just caf. To begin with, there was brain food thrown in as well (oily fish, cereals, fruit, anything), but by the end it became whatever he could eat with one hand without looking. And whatever didn’t spoil if he forgot about it for hours on end, when he was busy trying to work out the astronavigation calculus required in the event of an astromech failure, or the load-bearing weights of various axles and tow-points of the common freighters, or, or, or…

By the end the numbers are all squiggles and he’s sure he’s forgotten how to tie his shoelaces. He spent a good fifteen minutes staring at the offending boots, willing them on with the power of his mind. (Times when Force powers would really come in handy, universe.)

Boot. Foot. He can identify the top fifty distress signals, but he can’t work out how a **foot goes on a boot**. No. Wait. Boot goes on a foot. Oh, Maker. He’s going to fail. He can’t even dress himself, and he’s going to fail.

Poe somehow shoves his foot into the correct receptacle and runs down the corridors (slowing when he sees people who will disapprove, and then speeding back up again) to the hall where he’s going to take the biggest exam of his life.

Like. No pressure. None. Not like his whole life plan depends on it. He stops in front of the hall and he checks his comm unit, seeing a little: “Good luck today, Poe, you won’t need it,” from Ben. He smiles, and sends back a quick and probably typo-ridden ‘thanks’. He turns it to exam-mode, and closes his eyes.

Closes his eyes, and tries to remember the pattern of the constellations above his home. The Bantha, the Dancer, the Tree. He pulls out their designations, their luminosity and class, and his panic goes down a little.

A little.

He goes in and takes the exam, convinced he’s got this. (Convinced he’ll fail.)

***

Poe is not taken to Great Malaise. He isn’t. He’s normally upbeat and positive about everything (to everyone’s despair when it’s the start of the week and they haven’t slept), but today it’s different.

He’s certain he failed. He’s certain he did the equivalent of write: “What is space?” on some of the questions. Probably also: “I like fast ships.” And, if he’s honest, “Please don’t fail me I am really nice.”

Most of the questions are a blur, and he’s - he’s _failed_ , right? Like. For the first time. He’s never failed a paper before (although he once came close, and he’s never forgotten that, even if everyone else in the galaxy has. He’d had to try even harder after that, because he has to be _good at things_ ). So he doesn’t know what you do, other than lie on your bed, in your Academy room, eating your pillow and groaning.

His stomach is a horrible knot of tension, and he’s **just so nervous**. He feels like he did a few loops in orbit without the inertial dampeners on. His gut keeps turning over, and it’s probably caf poisoning on top of everything else. Yeah. That.

When Ben knocks on the door (and it’s going to be Ben, let’s face it, no one else would dare) he ignores it. Ben, son of Han, has never let a lock stand in his way, so the door opens shortly after. 

His wonderful boyfriend has his arms full of things, and he dumps them on Poe’s back.

Poe yelps. “What are you doing?”

“You haven’t been looking after yourself, so I brought things. I tried to get them last night, but the curfew kicked in, and you yelled at me for risking my admission already, so…”  


Poe rolls over. He’s now covered in little bags of fruit and veggies, cartons of juice, his favourite snack rolls… none of it really ‘junk’, but all of it nice. There’s a little packet of gum which is his guilty pleasure that he tries not to indulge in, but he does from time to time. There’s even some of that shampoo Ben uses that he normally purloins when he visits, joking that it makes them smell the same. He grins, and grabs Ben’s shirt.

“You’re terrible,” he accuses him.  


“I know,” Ben says, and kisses him quickly.   


Poe helps him scoop the things up, and then put most of them in the footlocker at the end of his bed. He grabs one of the rolls for himself, and Ben outright refuses (but he’ll nibble some from Poe’s hand anyway) and they sit at the top of the narrow bed. The Academy doesn’t really allow for comfort, so their legs are pressed together as they lean on the headboard, but Poe doesn’t care. There’s an arm slung around him, and he lets the younger man cuddle him, for a change.

“Thanks for this,” Poe says, when he finishes gulping down the juice. His body’s been starved of real nutrition for so long that his stomach aches, but it’s a good ache.   


“Any time,” Ben replies, and kisses his hair. “Besides, you have to do the same for me, when it’s my finals.”  


“I will,” Poe promises. “I _will_.”  


Poe still thinks he failed, but if he did… he’ll just stay back another year. And as Ben jumped _up_ a year, then they’ll be together. So. If he does fail… it’s not the end of the galaxy. 

Even if both of them studying at once will be hell. Oh well. They’ll get through this, they always do.


End file.
